


Croquis

by Saathi1013



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Multi, OT3, Other, POV Male Character, POV Third Person Limited, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-05 12:17:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saathi1013/pseuds/Saathi1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Avengers Tower is rebuilt, Tony attempts matchmaking, Natasha is scary, and Pepper may have ulterior motives. Also, there is Asgardian mead, which might be a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Croquis

**Author's Note:**

> Much love and abject adoration for Knitmeapony, who totally shamed me with copious red ink and then talked me down from the ledge so I could make this fic so much better than it was when I started. Also to Marie and Ayla, for putting up with my appalling first draft. <3

“Good morning,” Pepper greets them one day, weaving past the web of schematics on display around Steve and Tony.  She's carrying two mugs and her tablet's tucked under her arm; she offers one coffee to Steve.  
  
“Good morning,” Steve says, taking it.  “And thank you.”    
  
“Oh, I love you,” Tony says, reaching for the other mug.  She pulls it away.  
  
“This isn't yours,” Pepper says.  “We need all the caffeine we can get to keep up with you.  How many energy drinks has he had, Steve?”  
  
“Two since I arrived,” Steve responds.  He takes a sip, and it's perfect, strong and rich and sweet, the way he likes it but could never have when sugar was scarce.  
  
“Narc,” Tony grumbles, hauling Pepper close for a kiss.  Steve hides his smile against the rim of his coffee.  
  
“Still arguing about the SHIELD quarters, I see,” she says, glancing around at the displays when she extricates herself.  
  
“I keep telling him, half a floor of barracks, a conference room, and a gym is more than enough.  I _was_ going to send them to the Holiday Inn,” Tony says.  “But Boy Scout here says inter-agency cooperation is... something.  I kinda tuned him out after 'cooperation.'”  
  
Pepper swats Tony on the shoulder.  “I'm glad you two are getting along, at least,” she says with humor and genuine warmth.  “Time was, you'd have stopped speaking by now.”  
  
“Tony stops speaking?”  Steve asks, earning a full-fledged laugh from Pepper.  Tony looks disgruntled.  
  
“You have a conference call at one,” she tells Tony, pulling up another window with a countdown clock.  “JARVIS, don't let him close that window, and lock him out of the rest when it goes off.  Let him back in when the meeting's over.”  
  
“Of course, Miss Potts,” JARVIS replies smoothly.  
  
“How did you get that override?”  Tony asks.  
  
“I'm JARVIS' favorite,” Pepper says.  “You two have fun.  I have a company to run.”  
  
“I have a skyscraper to rebuild,” Tony complains.  
  
“And Stark Enterprises is rebuilding a city, ”  Steve points out, having kept up with the papers’ lavish attention on the company’s generosity.  He pores over the stock lists to find how high the company rises each day, ink smudging his fingers that Tony teases him about later.  Sure, he can get a live feed on his phone, but it’s not the _same_ _._    
  
Pepper beams, a bright bright smile that Steve loves earning.  “You're _my_ new favorite,” she says, laying a hand on his arm and squeezing gently, and that’s even better. “At least until I hear back from the R &D guys that Tony played nice during their meeting.”  She arches an eyebrow at Tony and heads for the exit.  
  
“Ugh, those morons?”  Tony says.  “Can I just fire them?”  
  
“Not anymore,” she sing-songs over her shoulder.  
  
Tony tries to delete the clock but it turns an angry red instead, and he starts muttering under his breath, pulling up lines of dense code that he scrolls through at dizzying speed.  
  
Steve realizes he'd never answered her comment, not properly anyhow.   _When did Tony and I stop fighting?_  He's not sure how to put it without sounding like a total doofus.   _He once told me that he'd have sacrificed his life a thousand times over, just to know you were safe_ is maudlin, and Tony wouldn't thank him for revealing that errant confession.   _Seeing that he'd earned the love of a woman like you meant that there must be something special that I started to look for myself_ sounds ridiculous, even though it's nearly as honest.    
  
Better he'd responded with a quip.  
  
***  
  
A couple of weeks later, Steve feels like he’s gotten in over his head.  He tracks Pepper down in what will be the Avengers' common room, directing the interior designers.  
  
“Tony keeps trying to make the Iron Man colors dominant,” she says with a sigh, spotting him.  “He's the least subtle man alive.”  
  
“Unsubtle?” Steve says, sorry to interrupt, but this is an emergency.  “He's _impossible._ ”  
  
“What's he done now?” she asks, steering him into the unfinished briefing room, shooing the techs out with an impatient wave.  
  
“He keeps trying to get me a date.”  
  
Pepper laughs, and he just gives her a pleading look.   “I'm sorry-” she says, covering her mouth with chagrin.  “I thought you were going to tell me that he keeps emailing you links to your fansites, or...  Sorry.”  She looks around for someplace to sit, and Steve levers a couch down from where it's leaning against the wall.  “Thank you,” she says, tucking her skirt under her knees as she sits.  “Okay, first things first.  Are you... okay with dating again?”  
  
He's told Pepper bits and pieces of his past; he wonders how much she's gleaned from snooping in his file, or she's heard from another member of the team.  
  
“Maybe?” Steve replies, running his fingers through his hair.  “I don't know.  He keeps introducing me to all these girls at fundraisers and they're pretty, but all they see is Captain America and I don't even _know_ them and I'm not...”  
  
“It's okay,” Pepper says.  “I'll talk to him.  You don't have to date any of the strange women Tony throws at you.”  
  
“If you prefer dudes,” Tony says, strolling in with a sandwich in one hand.  “I know this guy with a mouth like a-”    
  
“Tony!” Pepper says.  
  
“Oh criminy,” Steve says at the same time, feeling himself flush hotly.  He drags a palm across his face.  
  
Tony lifts a panel in the wall with his free hand and gives a double-take to the wiring he finds within.  “Sorry, Pep, you know I still love you best.  Especially that thing you do with-”  
  
“ _Tony!_ ”  She turns to Steve and pats his knee.  Tony abandons his food and starts pulling the wiring out of the wall.  “Not like it wouldn't be perfectly fine if you were gay.  But I know that you did truly love Peggy.”  
  
“Hey,” Tony says, as a burst of sparks falls at his feet.  “Both are good.  Actually, to be semantically correct, _all_ genders are good.  Sometimes simultaneously.  Did I tell you about that time at Fashion Week with-?”  
  
“Yes, Tony, and I’d rather not hear it again, thank you,” Pepper replies, her voice fond rather than unhappy.  Steve will never get used to how relaxed Pepper is about Tony’s past.  
  
“Well, not everyone can live up to my peerless example, but-”  He steps back and retrieves his sandwich, scowling at the wall.  
  
“Shut up, Tony, you're not helping, and this conversation is _not_ about you right now.”  
  
“Which is why it's _boring._ ”  Tony ambles away, shouting for one of the technicians about ‘unauthorized shortcuts’ with language Steve hasn’t often heard this far behind the front lines.  
  
Pepper turns to Steve.  “I'd apologize for him, but if I started now, I'd never stop.  And that's if I only apologized to _you_. ”  
  
“He's just like his father, except somehow _worse_ ,” Steve mutters.  
  
“Why, did Howard hit on everything that moved, too?” Pepper asks teasingly.  
  
Steve gives her a _look_.  
  
“ _Never_ tell Tony that.  I'm saving it for a rainy day.”  
  
***  
  
“Wait, how are you _his_ date to this thing and not mine?”  Tony asks again as Pepper fiddles with Steve's bow tie.  
  
“I'm there to protect him from your highly inappropriate attempts at matchmaking,” Pepper reminds him.  “If a genuinely nice girl comes up, I'll play wingman and then make myself scarce.  You're going stag as punishment and if you're _really_ good, I'll make it up to you later.”  She shoots Tony a wicked smile from under her eyelashes.  “I might even let you dance with me once or twice.”  
  
“Oh, is that right?”  Tony snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her to him.  “ _Dancing,_ you say?”  
  
Steve's heart aches with a distant pang.   _They can't know,_ he reminds himself, looking away.  He’s not sure which is worse: the reminder of his past with Peggy, or reliving the time before _her_ , always alone on the outside...  He remembers Bucky dragging him to smoky little bars, the parade of girls he’d introduce to Steve and then, with a shrug, claim for himself.  But somehow, this is _worse;_ with Tony and Pepper, he feels doubly neglected and intrusive, seeing them like this.  
  
Pepper seems to notice his discomfiture and disentangles herself gracefully, smoothing her palms down the sides of her dress.  Steve offers Pepper his arm and, as she takes it, he glances at Tony.  There’s the faintest smudge of lipstick at the corner of Tony’s mouth, and his gaze is fond and a little glazed as he watches them head for the door.  
  
Tony calls, “Home by midnight, you two!  Don't do anything I wouldn't do!” Steve glances back to give an amused grin at this, and finds that Tony’s gaze isn’t following Pepper’s figure as she walks away but instead possibly _Steve’s._  Probably not, though.    
  
“Which leaves _what,_ exactly?” Pepper calls back over her shoulder, Steve can't help but laugh.  
  
“That joke was old when _I_ was a teenager,” he says, guiding her into the limo.  
  
***  
  
Tony spends most of his night telling everyone he can can about how amazing the – _his_ – new  Avengers Tower is, as if the whole point of the party weren't celebrating its renovation and reopening.  Even the reporters look like they're trying to avoid him, which Pepper points out to Steve with glee.  
  
Then Tony starts talking to Darcy, which Steve finds somewhat terrifying.  The last time they were in a room together they ended up instigating a prank war in SHIELD HQ that only ended when a glitter bomb meant for Thor wound up getting sent to Natasha by mistake.    
  
Pepper catches Natasha's eye.  “Please get Darcy away from Tony,” she says, “Whatever they're talking about will end in an international PR nightmare.”    
  
“That woman keeps trying to talk me into giving her lessons on the range,” Natasha says.  “And Tony is convinced that Steve and I are destined to re-enact some torrid espionage movie from the Seventies.  I already tried to disabuse him of the notion last week, but he's persistent.”  
  
“That explains why he's been favoring his left side in the sparring ring,” Steve comments, and Pepper gives an undignified snicker.    
  
“Fine,” Pepper says.  “Can you watch out for any of the women Tony probably has waiting in the wings to pounce on Steve?”  
  
“ _That_ I can handle,” Natasha replies with a nod.  
  
She's pleasant company, even if the stories they start swapping scare off most of their table-mates.  Fury joins them eventually, though, and he has them in stitches, laughing at jokes that should be more gruesome than funny.  
  
“-and then I told him, 'Consider this part of your health plan,” Fury says, “'We're progressive like that here.  We just can't afford the anaesthetic.'”  
  
Natasha dabs at her eyes with her handkerchief.  “That's how I got my wisdom teeth removed,” she says.  “Fortunately they'd lost track of what drugs they'd given me to loosen my tongue, so it was almost pleasant.”  
  
Steve stares at her.  Every time she says something about her past, he can never decide whether to be shocked or completely intimidated. “That makes my procedure sound like a cakewalk,” he says.  
  
“Are you kidding?” she says, eyes wide.  “You let a _Stark_ trap you in an electrified coffin with needles in your arm.”  
  
“Now that takes some balls,” Fury agrees.  “Who the hell came up with a name like 'Vita-rays,' anyway?”  
  
The conversation dies as they notice that the dance floor has cleared out, save a sole couple moving gracefully – if slightly out of tempo – at the center. Steve catches sight of Darcy, now safely in Jane’s custody at the edge of the crowd, looking wary and delighted, respectively.  
  
“Is that Banner?”  Steve asks. “I didn't know he was coming.”    
  
“I didn't know he could _dance,_ ” Natasha says.  Indeed, Pepper seems to be having a great time, talking animatedly with Bruce as if half the room weren't watching and flashbulbs aren't periodically going off around them.  
  
“We thought it would be good to have him show up for a little while, get a few pictures taken,” Fury says.  “Every bit of goodwill we can get for him from the press is going to pay off eventually.  We have six contingencies in place in case something drastic happens.”  
  
“Also, he's been given marijuana,” Natasha adds.  At Fury's incredulous look, she shrugs.  “What?  It was Clint's idea.”  
  
“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that,” Steve says blandly.  “Because I am not on duty tonight.”  He keeps one ear on the conversation as he watches Pepper and Bruce dance.  The velvet dress she's wearing seems scandalously cut, but it swirls and eddies around her ankles and clings to her thighs in graceful arcs as she moves.  For his part, Bruce is transformed in a wholly more pleasant way than usual; his whole posture is open and almost _light_ as he guides Pepper around the dance floor.  
  
It makes his fingers itch for charcoal and newsprint, heck, even a pen so that he can get broad sweeping gesture studies of how Pepper glides in the frame of Bruce’s arms.  The impulse is almost as strong as the last time he was in Tony’s lab, enthralled by the light of the arc reactor as it reflected off the workstation.  Everything - Tony’s frown of concentration, his oil-smudged hands, the tiny _tiny_ motor so gently cradled in his fingertips - was bathed in blue, and Steve had desperately wanted pastels to capture the contrast between light and dark, cool and warm.  
  
Steve looks around, wondering if he can borrow a pen from someone and scribble on a napkin without drawing attention. He spots Tony, now next to Thor by the bar.  That might be _worse_ than Darcy.  They're both leaning back with the indulgent smiles of two feudal kings surveying their court.    
  
The song ends, and Pepper gives a joking little curtsy that makes Bruce laugh.  The whole room seems to exhale as they leave the dance floor.  
  
“Well done, Miss Potts,” Fury says when Pepper returns to the table.    
  
Natasha nods in agreement, saluting Pepper with her champagne flute.  “Jane's been getting the nerve to talk to him all night, and now they'll both be safely in the corner trading technobabble.”

“Really?”  Pepper drops into her seat and glances surreptitiously at Thor.    
  
“He won't be jealous,” Steve says.  “Jane's trying to set Bruce up with Darcy.  Which... um.”  He doesn't really have words for how he feels about that.  To have Thor tell it, 'regular intervals of vigorous intimate relations' will be good for Banner, but Steve has _profound_ reservations on that score.  
  
“May Jane have all the luck in the world,” Natasha says, draining her glass, “Right when the next invasion begins.”  Then she leaves, a determined set to her jaw as she weaves through the crowd.  
  
“Another invasion?”  Pepper says, suddenly on alert.  “Have we heard-”  
  
“No,” Fury says.  “Although it _has_ been at least five minutes since I've checked on it.”  He gives Steve a small salute as he  leaves.  
  
Steve says, “Natasha lives like life is what happens – infrequently – between wars.  Or alien invasions, I suppose.”  
  
“Speaking of _living life,_ ” Pepper says, watching Natasha and Clint take the dance floor.  
  
Steve follows her gaze.  “ _Oh,_ ” he says.  This does not look as if this is the first time Natasha and Clint have danced together, unless you count ‘fighting’ as ‘dancing.’  Which, now that Steve sees them moving with fluid grace around the other dancers, they probably do.  
  
“I'll say,” Pepper agrees, then snags fresh champagne from a passing tray.  
  
***  
  
Tony drops by shortly thereafter.  “Thor smuggled a barrel of Asgardian mead in the back of Jane's van,” he announces, dropping a kiss on top of Pepper's head.  “We'll only be a minute, and then we'll get this party _started._ ”  
  
“Oh, no-”  Pepper starts, rising to her feet.  
  
Tony rolls his eyes.  “Hey, you're not _my_ date tonight,” he says in mock affront.  He leans in close, and murmurs something in her ear that makes her relax a fraction, though there are still traces of worry in her gaze as Tony heads for the exit.  She takes a deep breath, another long drink, and then turns to Steve.  
  
“Steve,” she starts, and suddenly he knows what's coming, and doesn't know how to prevent it.  “Will you dance with me?”  
  
He fiddles with the leftover silverware on the table.  “I don't-”  
  
Pepper lays a gentle hand on his.  “I know.  I can teach you, if you'll let me.”  
  
“I-”  He looks down at their joined hands.  “I guess I have to learn sometime,” he says finally.  
  
“That's the spirit,” she says, and leads him to the dance floor.  “We'll take it slow.”  
  
***  
  
Fifteen minutes later, they stagger back to their table.  Pepper's laughing so hard that Steve has to help keep her upright until she can find a seat.  
  
“Oh my god, did you see Maria's _face,_ ” she gets out when she can breathe again.  
  
“I don't know whether to be mortified or kind of proud of myself,” Steve admits.  
  
“You did fine for your first time,” Pepper says, giggling again.  “I'm sure you'll get a nice thank-you card from Fury for that fortuitous stumble.”  
  
A loud clap of thunder rattles the windows, and the lights flicker.  Steve's smile fades.  
  
“We should probably get upstairs,” Pepper says, grabbing Steve's arm and hitching up her skirt around her knees.  
  
“Where's Banner?” he asks as they weave their way around curious partygoers.  With his free hand, he signals to the team that he's handling recon, and they relax incrementally.  
  
“He left halfway through our little comedy of errors out there,” Pepper says when they get to the elevator.  “He's got a hideout in the basement.”  
  
Steve looks dubiously at the elevator.  “It's on its own circuit,” Pepper reminds him.  
  
“I know,” he says, adding, “I _could_ carry you up the stairs, but it'd take longer.”  He shucks his jacket and tosses it over the arm of one of the chairs clustered at the end of the hall.  
  
“No, thank you,” Pepper replies with barely-suppressed mirth.  
  
When they get up to the penthouse, rain is lashing at the windows but neither Tony nor Thor are anywhere to be seen.  “Are they up here?” Pepper asks, peering out at the balcony trough the storm.  
  
“...no.”  Steve says, going down the hall to scout the other rooms.  “I don't think so.”  He gets back to the living room and frowns at the rain.  “Is this just a regular storm?”  
  
“JARVIS?”  Pepper asks, and a weather satellite feed obligingly gets displayed on the wall; nothing unusual, from what Steve can see.  “Where’s Tony?”  
  
“On the first floor,” JARVIS responds.  “His alcohol level is currently within your preferred limits for this type of event.”  
  
Pepper perches on the arm of a chair.  “This is our life,” she says ruefully.  “Jumping at lightning because we work with the _Norse god of thunder._ ”  
  
Steve rubs at his forehead and drops into the chair at her back, one eye on the storm. “I feel like I should just wait here.  They're bound to come up eventually.  Thor will probably want to be out there, mead or no mead.”  
  
“And if there _is_ mead, Tony will join him,” Pepper adds, sounding tired.  He hears her kick off her shoes, and suddenly she's tipping backwards into his lap, boneless and warm.    
  
“I'm okay,” she says to his worried expression, knees slung over one arm of the chair and her head on the other.  “I just wanted to get comfortable.”    
  
He's seen her do this with her friends, just invade their space in quiet moments.  She'll tuck her feet  under Happy's thigh to warm her toes as they heckle clips of Tony on the news, or lean in under Rhodey's arm as they're trying to update Steve on the finer points of modern international policy.  If Tony wanders in, he doesn't give it a second glance unless it's to complain about them hogging his couch.  
  
Steve stares down at her, puzzled.  Somewhere, he'd crossed an invisible line in her mind where he rates this familiarity and trust.  Of course, he’s more than happy to let her do so; she’s somehow snuck in under the radar that enforces his own long-ingrained deference towards women.  He respects her no less than before - more, even - but he doesn’t feel the need to keep a polite distance between them.  She and Tony have adopted him into their inner circle, where they’re both so totally different than the public facade they present to the outside world that Steve’s let his own guard down in response.    
  
It’s nice, but he doesn’t know the _rules._  So he follows their lead, and every now and then they find new ways to surprise him.  
  
“It's okay,” she repeats, adding in a teasing voice, “You're my date tonight, aren't you?”  Then she turns to stare at the ceiling, exhaling deeply.  “I just need a minute before Tony comes up and I have to keep him from demolishing a very expensive tuxedo with some kind of horrible rain dance.”  
  
“...all right,” Steve agrees cautiously.  He can feel his pulse beating in his chest, and forces his breathing to even out.  
  
He has a lapful of girl – a pretty girl in a revealing gown, no less – but despite what she says, she's not his _date._  She's dating Tony, who's his friend, perhaps his _best_ friend, and a teammate besides.  And even if all the weren't true, he wouldn't have the nerve to think she'd want him _anyway._  
  
She's gorgeous, lean and streamlined, built for precision like a rocket, sharp mind the constant engine propelling her through life.  For all the changes the world has wrought, he's glad to be alive in an era where he's able to see her at work as the CEO of a multinational technology corporation, commanding and diplomatic in turn, flawlessly navigating the dizzying array of resources she has at her fingertips.  
  
Imagining that a woman like her would want a displaced relic like him is laughable.  Tony's tried to remind him of his virtues – strong, heroic, brave, 'cute in a clean-cut, retro way' – repeatedly and at length, but Steve has a hard time believing them.  When he looks in the mirror, all he sees is that scrawny kid from Brooklyn, reshaped by the vision of two brilliant, long-dead minds.    
  
All anyone else sees is Captain America, except his friends.  And his current list of friends is too sparse to lose two critical members over errant attachments.  
  
 _Hell,_ he thinks, because none of these reminders are helping.  He can't stop staring at the freckles that cover her skin, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she relaxes so trustingly in his arms, the pale eyelashes that frame her eyes.  
  
He belatedly realizes that she's _looking back at him,_ and he frantically schools whatever his expression is into bland attention.  Too late, it seems, because she looks _stricken._  “Oh,” she says, sounding sad.  “Oh.  _Steve..._ ”  
  
He tenses as if she's about to slap him, wanting to flee but reluctant to just dump her unceremoniously on the floor.  She lays a hand against his face gently, so gently and he closes his eyes, not wanting to see her face as she tells him what he already knows.  
  
Instead, she _kisses_ him, soft and careful and impossibly sweet.  He jerks back, shocked, but she follows, turns it dirty and slick and _good_ when he gasps against her mouth.  She chases that sound, twisting in his arms until her knees slot on either side of his thighs and her hands are cupping his face.  
  
Something breaks open in his chest when she drags her teeth against his lower lip, and he finds himself kissing her back with the passion he'd withheld before.  His hands crush the fragile fabric of her dress at her waist as he holds her tight, afraid to pull her closer but more frightened of pushing her away.  She shifts in his lap, and he notices with mortification that he's half hard against her.    
  
 _Surely she can tell,_ Steve thinks, and when she moves again, it's clear that she can, and does not mind a bit.  
  
After another minute, they break apart reluctantly, catching their breath in the shallow space between them.  Pepper rests her forehead against his, rubbing her thumb across his cheekbone.    
  
“Oh,” she repeats and straightens in his arms reluctantly.  “I need to call Tony.”  
  
This sends a cold shock down Steve's spine, but what happens next is _worse:_  
  
“No, you don't,” Tony replies, sounding entirely too casual.  In Steve's experience, this means one of two things: he somehow doesn't care (unlikely), or he's _profoundly_ upset and terrible things are about to happen.  
  
Pepper twists as if she's about to stand, and Steve holds her in his lap, arms coming up around her protectively. He doesn't say anything so trite as _This isn't what it looks like,_ because Tony is far, far smarter than that.  Instead, he asks, “How long have you been here?”  
  
“Long enough to watch my girlfriend completely own your ass,” Tony says, coming up close behind Pepper.  “I mean, I knew she was good, but man, I never figured she was _this_ good.”  
  
“We haven’t-” she says.  “We’re _not-_ ”  Pepper takes a deep breath, steeling herself.  “This was the _first time,_ Tony.  The only-”  
  
She stops when Tony crouches down next to her and murmurs, “Pepper, please tell me you're not just fucking another _mask._ ”  His voice is low and bitter and raw, and Steve's gut churns.  
  
“No,” she says.  She apparently understands what's Tony's asking better than Steve ever can, because she adds, “ _Never,_ ” with such weight and meaning that Tony's face changes, breaking open into a small, relieved smile.  
  
“Okay,” Tony says, and again, thoughtfully, “okay.”  
  
Pepper turns to Steve, an apologetic look in her eyes.  Steve is ready to stand, set her aside or hand her off to Tony, ready to walk away, but her hand doesn't move from his shoulder.  In fact, she gives it a squeeze as if she's read his mind.  
  
“Steve,” she says.  “It's all right.  You can go, if you want to, but-”  she bites her lip.  “I'd like you to stay.”  Pepper sends a silent query towards Tony, who rolls his eyes at her in total exasperation.  “ _We'd_ like you to stay.  Is... is that all right?”  
  
Steve has no clue what's just happened.  They've just had an entire conversation in under the span of a minute that seemed to start with recrimination and ended in... something entirely beyond his vocabulary.  “I-” he says, looking back and forth between them for something, anything that will explain this.  “I don't-”  
  
Tony steps up.  “Steve,” he says slowly, settling his hands on Pepper's shoulders.  “Do you want-”  One of Tony's hands slips the thin strap of Pepper's dress down her arm. “-to fuck-”  
  
“ _Tony._ ” Pepper says warningly.  
  
“Fine.  To _sleep with-_ ”  Tony slides down the other strap, leaving miles of her skin bare, an open invitation.  “-my girlfriend?”  He crouches down so that his eyes are level with Steve's.  “This is not a trick question, Rogers.  It is okay – even encouraged – to  say yes.”  
  
“It's also okay to say no,” Pepper adds.  “We won't hold it against you.”  Tony stands again and makes an impatient noise.  “We won't,” she insists.  “We _like_ you, Steve.  It's not like we do this with everybody.”  
  
“We haven't done this with _anybody,_ ” Tony says.  “Not even on my birthday.”  
  
“Not helping,” Pepper says, shooting him an aggrieved look.  
  
Somehow, this is what it takes to spur Steve to respond, this moment of normalcy between his friends.  He's still not entirely sure what they're offering, but he trusts them both, for good or ill.  And he _wants_ so badly that he’s faintly shocked that it’s taken him this long to find the right word for it.  He’s wanted this, whatever ‘this’ is, for so long that he can taste iron in his mouth when he thinks of every time he’s seen Pepper’s hair falling loose over her shoulder, every time he huddled close with Tony over building schematics.    
  
“Yes,” Steve says to Pepper, and “Yes,” to Tony, and Steve turns back to her, uncertainty creeping into his voice.  “Only-”  
  
“I know,” Pepper says, cupping his face in her palms.  “We'll take it slow.”  
  
***  
  
They kiss for a long time, until Steve can't decide where to put his hands.  He strokes her back, her sides, spans her waist and her ribs and carefully ghosts his thumbs along the underside of her breasts, where he finds to his surprise she's not wearing any supportive garments, neither bra nor girdle.  
  
 _Do they still wear girdles?_ he wonders, but it doesn't matter, because _she_ isn't, not tonight, and there's no clear boundary preventing him from moving further, curving his hands around her breasts, the velvet a soft rasp against his skin.  
  
She pushes forward eagerly, her fingers busy with his tie, releasing the knot and sliding it free of his collar.  
  
“Thank you,” Tony says graciously, and Steve slots his eyes open to find that she's handed it off to Tony's care.  He has it draped around his neck, overlaying his own tie, four trailing ends framing the muted glow on his chest.  
  
Tony grins at him lazily.  “I'm keeping it,” he informs Steve.  
  
Then Pepper starts rolling her hips again, and Steve has to close his eyes.  
  
***  
  
“Hands-off voyeurism is for _chumps,_ ” Tony declares at some point, crouching down behind Pepper.  He starts doing something that has her inhale sharply, and then Steve can feel Tony's hands moving up the long lines of her legs, tracing paths that make his fingertips graze Steve's thighs every so often.  
  
Steve plucks at the zip on Pepper's dress.  “ _Yes,_ ” Pepper says against his mouth.  
  
“Should we-?” he asks, darting a glance over his shoulder towards the bedroom.  
  
“We'll get there,” Tony promises, one hand inching higher.  
  
Steve tugs the zipper down.  
  
***  
  
Tony's doing something with his fingers that has Pepper flushed and panting in Steve's lap.  He's not sure what it is, because her dress is in a puddle around her waist and Steve's occupied with making her moan with exploratory touches over her skin and careful, _careful_ teeth against one nipple.  
  
Besides, whatever Tony's doing, it's making the back of his hand move in a steady rhythm against Steve's fly, and he can't bring himself to interrupt _that._  
  
Pepper comes apart between them with Tony's lips on the side of her neck and Steve's avid eyes on her face.  “Beautiful,” Steve whispers while she's still shuddering in his arms, and she blinks back at him, looking suddenly shy.    
  
Tony drags his thumb across Steve's lower lip, leaving trail in its wake that Steve can't help but taste.  When it lingers at the corner of his mouth, Steve chases the flavor, turning his head to take Tony's finger into his mouth without pause.  
  
They're both staring at him.  
  
“ _Fuck,_ ” Tony breathes in a low tone, and the ache in his voice makes Steve’s chest constrict.  
  
Pepper's hands go to his belt.  “I don't-” Steve says, looking around at the windows, the exits, noticing how _exposed_ they all are in the middle of this room.  
  
“Shh,” Pepper says, and Tony makes room so she can kneel on the floor.  
  
He doesn't last long; he can't, with everything that's come before plus Pepper's eyes glancing up at him every so often beneath her eyelashes and Tony sprawled on the floor behind her giving gentle, filthy advice in a voice that sends heat curling along Steve's spine.  
  
The arm of the chair creaks in his grasp as he tries not to thrust his hips – _impolite_ , he thinks wildly, remembering the chorus girl in his dressing room who’d left a smear of glitter on his hip one night and scraped his shoulder with the corner of her tap shoe the next.  Then Pepper does something with her tongue and he's _gone._  He gasps her name in warning but it's too late, and she swallows his release without missing a beat.  She stays through to the last, until he's too sensitive, then pulls away gently with a pleased smile.  
  
Tony snares her wrist, pulling her round and Steve watches them kiss.  He sees Tony lick at the side of her mouth, and then he flushes in sudden understanding.  
  
“Bed,” Tony says authoritatively, and she nods.  “You coming?” he asks Steve, and at Steve's wide-eyed look, adds, “You didn't think we were _done_ with you, did you?”  
  
***  
  
Pepper detours to the bathroom, and Tony to the closet to hang up his rumpled jacket.  Steve sits on the edge of the bed, mind a careful blank as he unlaces his shoes, tugs them off, removes his socks and tucks them up neatly inside his shoes.  If he starts thinking about it, about everything they _could_ do next, pieced together from books and stories and his own sparse experience, it still wouldn't encompass _them,_ the three of them, sharing a bed.    
  
Bucky had boasted of having two women at once, and Steve's sure that some soldiers under his command have slept together for more than warmth, but he’d avoided hearing - or seeing - details. And he's pretty sure if he'd picked up any information about this, it still wouldn't cover Tony's and Pepper's intentions, because they seem to be determined to upend his expectations at every turn.  
  
Steve glances up and spots Tony and Pepper reflected in the vanity.  Tony’s still in undershirt and trousers, having a frantic silent conversation with Pepper.  She smiles gently at Tony, brushes his hair back from his brow, and kisses him on one temple.  
  
Steve smiles to himself, reassured.  If _Tony Stark_ needs a minute to regroup in the middle of all this, then they’re _all_ making it up as they go along. He pretends like he hasn’t seen anything when they come round the corner to rejoin him.  
  
Pepper's thrown on a short silk robe but hasn't bothered to tie it, so she's almost entirely bare as she sighs loudly and comes in to take Steve's hands in hers.  She pulls Steve to his feet and starts unbuttoning his shirt as Tony comes up behind her, one hand curving over her hip.  “Steve,” she says, “Tony isn't sure if he's allowed to touch you.  Without me as an excuse between you, I mean.”  
  
Steve laughs, surprised.  If you give Tony an inch, he'll take a mile, but _here_ he's careful of boundaries?  Is that why he’s hesitating?  After everything, it’s such a small step to take; Steve’s made far greater leaps of faith and come through fine.   He leans forward to plant a kiss on Pepper's lips, sweet and quick, then turns to do the same with Tony.  The soft prickle of beard is new, but not at all unpleasant.  
  
When he pulls away, Tony grins at him, broad and bright and wicked.  “All _right,_ ” Tony says, and steps around Pepper so he can tackle Steve to the bed and tear at his clothes.  
  
***  
  
Once they're naked, Tony’s hands never stop moving.  “Jesus, look at you,” Tony says, rearing up a little to stare, his gaze blazing a path that his fingertips follow.  “Pepper, d’you _see_ this?”  He sounds delighted and proud, like he’s showing off the new design specs for the Mark VIII.  Pepper nods, her teeth lazily nipping at the pulsepoint in Steve’s wrist.    
  
Steve pulls Tony down for another kiss, splaying the vee of his hand over Tony’s sternum, just under and around the Arc.  “Don’t act like I’m the only miracle in this bed,” Steve murmurs, watching Tony preen a little before adding, “I mean, have you _seen_ the gams on your girl?”  
  
Tony hangs his head, groaning.  “We are sleeping with a man who uses the word ‘gams,’ Pepper.   _Not_ ironically.”  
  
“Your fault for letting him talk,” Pepper says.  
  
“Fair point,” Tony says, and nudges Steve’s chin up so they can start kissing like Pepper’s going to award points afterward.  Tony's erection drags against Steve's hip and Steve wraps his hand around it, wanting to help.  Pepper provides lube and gives pointers, but Tony pretty much does all the work, fucking into Steve's fist until he comes in messy spurts over Steve's stomach and thigh.    
  
Steve rubs circles into Tony's trembling shoulders until they collapse, and Tony rolls to the side with a  groan.  “Gimme a minute, here,” he says, staring up at the ceiling with a glazed look.  
  
“It's all right,” Pepper says, patting Tony's knee.  “We can make our own fun.”  
  
***  
  
Tony starts asking questions about Steve's augmented physical abilities while he's trying to _focus._  Pepper isn't much better, winding her arms and legs tighter around him and moaning encouragement in his ear.  
  
“...strength, coordination, stamina-” Tony says.  “I wonder if you could hold me up against a wall.”  
  
“I can throw you _through_ that wall,” Steve offers, irritated and mostly worried that he's going to hurt Pepper if he loses his concentration.  
  
“Tony likes it a little rough sometimes,” Pepper says, her voice hitching, “so do I, but that might be a little much, even for him.”  
  
“Unless I'm in the suit,” Tony points out.  “But I'll have to redesign it again.”  He brightens.  “Oh!  Can I blow you in costume?”  
  
Steve hides his face against Pepper's shoulder as he comes.  
  
***  
  
“JARVIS, take the last three hours of surveillance on the penthouse and initiate protocol Alpha Six-Niner,” Tony says lazily when they're all wrung-out and boneless on the sheets.  
  
“Seriously, you still _call_ it that?”  Pepper says, covering her eyes with both hands.  
  
“It's easy to remember,” Tony says.  
  
“What-?” Steve asks, without enough brainpower to finish the question.  
  
“It excises the relevant video and transfers it to a private file under multiple security locks,” Tony replies.  
  
“It's a monument to Tony's massive ego,” Pepper explains.  
  
“You're keeping a _record_ of this?” Steve says.  Anxiety floods him, and he sits up, gathering the sheet around his hips.  
  
“It's okay,” Pepper says calmly.  “Anyone starring in the relevant video can tell JARVIS to delete the file, and if they don't visit the bedroom again after six months, it auto-deletes.”  
  
Steve opens his mouth, ready to give the order.  
  
“At least wait till you watch it,” Tony complains, and Steve stops, considering.  “I mean, I know I can't get you to watch _internet_ porn, but this is different.”  He snakes an arm around Steve's waist, gently pulling him back down into the cozy space beside him. “This is _better._ ”  
  
“It really is,” Pepper says, sliding her leg over Steve's so that he's well and truly caught.  “You can decide tomorrow.”  
  
Steve decides that their advice has worked out so far, and settles down to sleep.  
  
***  
  
“Good morning,” Pepper says, as Steve stumbles into the kitchen at 0845, a sheet folded up and tucked around his hips.  She looks far more at home, standing in the kitchen in an oversized white t-shirt and quite possibly nothing else.  She hands Steve a mug of coffee.  
  
“Morning,” Steve says, feeling ridiculous.  “I couldn't find my clothes,” he admits.  
  
“We sent them out to the cleaners.  Well, except for this,” she says, plucking at the fabric on her shoulders.  
  
“Pepper steals shirts,” Tony says, wandering in wearing pyjama pants, his hair sticking up in every direction.  “She is a shirt _thief._  I want to charge her with grand theft shirt for my vintage Stones tee, but apparently there's no such thing.”  He pops open an energy drink and drains it in one long go.  
  
Steve watches his throat work for a second, then snaps himself out of it.  “Well then, I'll just have to keep an eye on her for you, sir,” he says in his best Captain America Voice.  
  
Tony drops the empty can.  “Don't _do_ that,” he says.  “I'm not even awake and now I want to nail you like drywall.”  
  
Steve ducks his head, hitching the sheet higher on his hips.  
  
“We don't have time,” Pepper says, pulling up a calendar display over the counter.  “We've got a top-level – core Avengers, department leads, key liaisons only – strategy meeting in an hour, we all need to shower and change and Steve needs clothes.”  
  
“No he doesn't,” Tony says.  
  
“Do you want Darcy providing color commentary on his... _attributes?_ ” Pepper asks, and Tony blanches.  “Didn't think so.  I'll shower first so I can sneak into his quarters and grab his stuff.  They'll believe me if I say he crashed here on drunk Tony patrol, but if I send you, you'll tell them the truth.”  
  
Steve suddenly realizes he has to go to a meeting with the people _(plural!)_ he just slept with; that’s okay, he can handle that.  Maybe.  But they are all going to be discussing the _future defense of the entire world._  Tony will probably send dirty encrypted messages to Steve’s tablet, getting Steve flustered, and Natasha will frown at them and of course, Steve _still_ can’t keep track of all those former Soviet republics, which might _come up in the meeting..._  
  
“I might anyway,” Tony says.  Then Tony turns to Steve and notices his increasingly panicked expression.  “Wait, this is probably one of those times people don't want me to talk about stuff.”  
  
“Also known as: _always._ ”  Pepper lays a hand on Steve's arm.  “Despite appearances, Tony can keep a secret.  We won’t say anything if you want us not to.”  
  
“It depends, I guess,” Steve says, looking down at his mug, “on what you two want.  But I probably shouldn’t be seen as... _partial_ to one of my teammates, and I can't imagine it'll make your reputation any better, Pepper.”  
  
She gives him a rueful smile.  “Tony used to be my boss, and the entire world thought we were sleeping together.  Then he gave me the company, and everyone _knew_ we were sleeping together.  After he almost died like four times, we finally _did_ sleep together.  Now that we’re dating, everyone keeps saying we're about to break up because they're convinced that we're both sleeping with other people.  My reputation, such as it is, was never based on the _facts_ of who I was sleeping with.”  
  
“We could probably take down Fox News if we all made out in public,” Tony muses.  “They'd _implode._ ”  
  
“You don't care about the politics, you just want to give Rupert a stroke.”  
  
“See, I don’t want to cause anyone any _problems,_ ” Steve says, adding in a rush, “when I'm not sure how long you plan to keep me around.”  
  
“Oh,” Pepper says, understanding.  “ _Steve._   You’re welcome here for as long as you put up with us.” She cups her hand around the back of Steve’s neck and draws him down gently into a warm, coffee-flavored kiss.  
  
“Ditto,” Tony says.  “Now get in the shower, Pep; I plan to convince our Captain of his welcome while you’re busy.”  
  
– END --


End file.
